


Howl

by red_crate



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Ass Play, Blow Jobs, Come Swallowing, Deepthroating, Dom/sub Undertones, Everybody Lives, Happy Ending, Light Bondage, M/M, Modeling, Neckz 'n' Throats, POV Alternating, Porn Magazines, Praise Kink, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, sex tears
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-07
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-01-10 06:00:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12292794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_crate/pseuds/red_crate
Summary: “First thing,” Boyd starts talking before Stiles can accept Laura's tepid gratitude. “Braeden is going to take some shots of you alone so you can get comfortable in front of the camera. After that, Peter will join you.”ANeckz 'N' Throatsau.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So there's an AU sandbox that, as far as I know, has only been written for Sterek (and holy shit are all the fics in that universe amazing). [Neckz 'N' Throats](https://archiveofourown.org/tags/Neckz%20'n'%20Throats/works). You may have read them. If you haven't, I highly recommend you do. That is what got me thinking about a version where Stiles and Peter have a softcore porn photoshoot together. 
> 
> And here we are.
> 
> Many thanks to TWT for the enthusiasm way back when I started this in...June? Also, my eternal thanks to Green for the very quick and dirty look-over. I gave her almost no time, and she delivered so graciously.

 

Braeden speaks almost as soon as Stiles slips inside Lydia’s office with the coffee orders. “How do you like working here?”

Stiles is mid stride when he realizes she means him, not one of the other three people in the room. A stuttered laugh escapes his throat when he notices everyone is staring at him. Laura, Boyd, and Braeden are all giving him speculative looks as Lydia sits behind her desk with a cheshire grin on her face. She's barely five years older than him, but Stiles is scared of her and all her beautiful, fierce glory. Under all that unexpected attention, he almost drops the cupholder of coffees he was bringing into her office.

“Me?” Stiles catches the coffees before scalding liquid goes all over the place. “I mean, uh, I like it.” He tries to figure out why Braeden is asking, while he hands out the coffees. He answers carefully, bobbing his head. “It's good, you know. Getting to see how things work in a magazine.” He’s an office assistant; there is only so much excitement that sort of job inspires.

He works as Lydia Martin's personal assistant at an upscale werewolf erotica magazine called _Howl_. He likes the job well enough. Lydia is scary and methodical, but she doesn't call him on his off hours or ask him to do anything really humiliating. Sometimes he gets cool castoff gifts from her, like that newest generation iPad last month. Still, being outright asked by the head photographer how he feels about his job is a little disconcerting.

Braeden smirks. “Would you like a little more hands on experience?”

Stiles narrows his eyes at her tone, looking from person to person. They all look rather invested in his answer. “Sure?”

Boyd exchanges a look with Lydia while Laura keeps scrutinizing him. More than Lydia, Stiles is intimidated by Laura Hale. She is Vice President of the company. He tries and fails to refrain from fidgeting with the edge of his pants pocket.

“Great. So Lydia can handle the contract and you can come downstairs and let me take a few photos of you.” Braeden smiles brightly, sounding as if it’s a done deal.

“Uh, I'm sorry, what?” Stiles runs a hand through his hair. “Pictures?” He laughs nervously.

Laura stands up and stalks towards him. The whole werewolf thing definitely works for her. Stiles feels a little like prey. She circles around him slowly, a small frown on her lips.

“We don't even know what he looks like under there.” She reaches out but stops just before touching him. Lowering her hand again, Laura sighs. “I guess it could work.”

Realization dawns and Stiles stutters. “You mean like _pictures_ pictures. For the magazine.”

Laura doesn't roll her eyes, but it seems like it's taking a lot for her not to. “Yes. The model that was booked today came down with chickenpox, of all things, and we are on a very tight schedule. I'm waiting to hear back from a couple potentials, this would solve the problem if you agree.”

Stiles applied for this position because he needed the money and because he had a background in journalism that he didn't really have any idea how to utilize. An idle hope of being surrounded by hot models all day, human and werewolf alike,  was icing on the cake. The reality though, is every photoshoot happens behind closed doors. Lydia handles the legal side of things, so he has even less of a chance to meet the scorchingly hot men and women who got paid to take their clothes off for the camera.

The prospect of being one of those people, if only as a one-time deal, is intriguing.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” Stiles fumbles with the placket on his shirt, then pauses. “Uh, do I have to strip here?”

Boyd chuckles while everyone else smiles, amused. “No, man. Laura is just being rude because she is panicking about getting everything done under deadline.”

“Of course you don't have to strip. You aren't under contract yet,” Lydia hisses at Laura, rather than assuring Stiles. When Laura scoffs and backs off, Lydia pulls her coffee closer. To Stiles, she says, “If you are actually willing to do this, I need you to print off a single day contract. I can go over it with you, if you need, and then you can sign it.”

Braeden stands up, biker boots thudding on the hardwood floor when she walks over to him. “Oh, I like this. He pinks up so pretty.” She winks at him, giving him a once over before heading out of the office.

Over her shoulder, Braeden says, “See you in a few minutes, Bambi.”

Stiles knows his cheeks must be splotchy from the attention. They heat further after Braeden's words.

“Oh, so this is happening, like, now.” Stiles gestures maybe a little wildly. When he catches the skeptical look on Laura's face, he clears his throat and wrangles his limbs in order.

“Yeah, so I'm going to go print that contract then.” He starts backing up to get out of here before Laura puts the kibosh on the whole idea.

His tablet is on the impersonal desk outside Lydia's office. It takes no time to find the contract she requested, print it off, and sign it. He skims the wording, but he's read over it before out of boredom. Stiles handles so many documents in a day, that they all sort of blur together when he files. There's nothing striking or outrages outlined in the one he signs.

After that, handing it over for Lydia’s approval is simple. She smiles at him with some warmth, pride even. Then he gets directed down to get prepped. Terrible and wonderful images flash across his mind when Lydia says _that_. Turns out he's just being sent down to get his hair artfully disheveled and some light powder put on his face to keep it from shining too much.

The makeup artist’s name is Kira and she is sweet. Stiles feels like she's the most approachable person he's met in the six months he's been employed here.

“Oh, gosh, your moles are so cute!” She exclaims for the second time since he sat down in front of her.

Stiles’ grin is lopsided. He doesn't think he's had so much detailed attention paid to his physical attributes maybe ever. “Thanks? Grew them myself.”

Kira laughs. It makes Stiles relax, forget that in about fifteen minutes he'll be standing around in his skivvies, getting photographed for a magazine and website that is seen by hundreds of thousands of people. Well, he almost forgets.

While Kira is misting his hair with water to loosen up the product he used this morning, he asks, “It isn't ridiculous that I am doing this, right?”

Studying him in the mirror, Kira tugs tufts of his hair this way and that. She answers, “You're cute, potentially hot. I mean, you've seen the photos before, right?” When Stiles nods, she shrugs. “Then you know they've had models like you before.”

“Yeah, of course.” Stiles scoffs.

He's seen the lithe guys who arch their backs and necks, who smolder and pout. A lot of them are slender like him, and Stiles has kept in decent shape. He isn't bad looking. However, Stiles isn't so sure he can pull off a sultry, teasing look. He'll try. Even if Laura ends up not liking the photos, Stiles still gets paid, per contract. No harm, no foul for him.

Kira checks the watch on her wrist, tiny frown on her lips. Swiveling the chair around so Stiles is facing her, she says, “Don't over think it, okay? They won't make you do anything you aren't comfortable with. Braeden is really good at what she does and she'll make you look awesome. You'll be fine!” She ends her little pep talk with a bro punch to Stiles’ shoulder.

It actually hurts a little.

“Ow,” he complains, grateful for her open countenance.

Cooing an apology, Kira rubs at the place she just hit. “Sorry, sorry. Uh, you need to get over to wardrobe now. Good luck!”

This time, he gets prodded by a woman with deep dimples, named Allison. She is nice enough, but not quite as easy to talk to as Kira. He might be a little biased though.

“This is the whole outfit?” He's not proud of the way his voice squeaks, but he's got more pressing matters going on.

After telling him to strip down to his undershirt and eyeing him up, Allison had pushed him into a changing room with a small bundle of fabric. Now, he's staring down at a pair tiny, black briefs and nothing else.

“Here.” Allison shoves something else over the door. “Put the underwear and jeans on. Lose the t-shirt, but keep the button-up.”

Okay, this isn't as bad as he feared. _Howl_ is erotica, but it's tasteful and not every set of photos is buck ass naked. Once he's followed Allison's directions, he stares at himself in the full length mirror of the tiny dressing cubicle. He looks like himself. The jeans are tight, but not any more than some he has at home. With the jeans on, he can't even see the briefs that replaced the boxers he prefers. The only slightly unusual thing about his outfit is the fact that he left the dress shirt unbuttoned over his bare chest.

Stiles flexes his abdomen, thankful that he kept up his light exercise routine after high school. He's been eating better too, mostly thanks to Scott who buys the bulk of the groceries for their apartment. He's thin, but not skin and bones, and he's got some muscle definition. He's not worried about that part.

He tries being sultry in the mirror. Models—especially ones for this kind of magazine—are supposed to be sexy. Stiles? Stiles is pretty sure he can't pull that off, not on purpose. Every expression he makes in the mirror looks strained and/or awkward as fuck.

“They need you.” Allison raps her knuckles on the door, jolting Stiles out of his crisis of confidence.

He straightens out his shirt and barely catches himself in time when he goes to flatten his hair. Kira might get mad at him if he screws that up. Just before he opens the door, he gives himself a stern look and mouths, _be sexy,_  to himself.

Boyd and Laura are waiting for him after Allison sends him on his way. It takes a lot of willpower not to pull his shirt closed when he meets them in the studio. Laura still looks skeptical, but when she looks him over, she doesn't tell him he's fired.

“Okay, you might work.” Laura concedes, features relaxing a bit. “Thank you for doing this.”

“First thing,” Boyd starts talking before Stiles can accept Laura's tepid gratitude. “Braeden is going to take some shots of you alone so you can get comfortable in front of the camera. After that, Peter will join you.”

Stiles swallows. He doesn't know why he'd assumed this photoshoot would be solo. The magazine rarely ever does single model spreads, unless it is a really popular model. Stiles hides his surprise by nodding and keeping his nervous laugh to himself.

“That was quick,” an older man appears next to Boyd. He is close to Stiles’ height and unfairly attractive, with thick shoulders, nicely trimmed goatee, and piercing blue eyes. The man’s smile is predatory when he rakes his gaze over Stiles. “Well, I could just eat you up.”

Laura huffs in annoyance. “Peter, don't scare him. He's Lydia's assistant, and doing us a favor.” She turns back to Stiles, squeezing his arm. “I'm going back to my office because I can't be here right now.” She grimaces, then leaves.

Peter leans towards Stiles, grinning evilly. “She's my niece.”

“Sometimes doing business with family isn't a great idea.” Boyd rolls his eyes. “Come on, then, Stiles. We're trying to stay on schedule.” He glares at Peter. “Go get some coffee or something. I will come find you when we're ready for you.”

“I’ll have you all to myself soon, anyway.” He winks at Stiles before sauntering back away.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The response I got to chapter one was amazing. Thank you so much, guys! I appreciate every ounce of enthusiasm. <3
> 
> I hope y'all enjoy this update!

 

Peter sneaks back into the studio not long after he was shooed away. He did go for that suggested coffee from the Starbucks across the street however. He also changed into the outfit Allison chose for him.

The usual bass-heavy music is playing while Braeden coaches her model into acting natural in front of the camera. Peter watches as Stiles—he’s seen the kid around the office enough to have learned his name even without proper introductions—grimaces and then shakes himself. It’s obvious how uncomfortable Stiles is under the scrutiny.

Peter sips his coffee, pleased when Stiles cracks a joke at his own expense and starts making adorable faces. Braeden laughs, her camera snapping away as Stiles grabs the back of his neck in a self-conscious yet sweet gesture. Peter just knows those pictures will turn out nicely. Stiles all approachable and _innocent_ looking.

The set is simple enough, lots of lighting on industrial flooring and exposed brick. There’s a single piece of furniture: a black chaise lounge sitting on a large faux fur rug to help balance the straight lines. Stiles has been standing in the foreground since Peter arrived, but he moves to slump onto the lounge.

 _Sprawls_ is more like it. His long legs are spread with one foot planted on the ground and the other thrown over the lounge. Stiles props his head onto his fist where his arm is resting against the top of the chair. He’s asking something about the cost of the set while his free hand fiddles with the buttons on his open shirt. He seems unable to stop moving. Peter knows it isn’t all because of the nerves. Stiles has been full of energy every time Peter has seen him.

He tracks the trail of hair on Stiles’ lightly toned stomach when the shirt pulls apart further. His exposed nipple pebbles up as Peter watches.

“I thought you were going to be good and wait for me to come get you?” Boyd complains lightly when he comes over after spotting Peter.

Taking a pointed sip of his coffee, Peter quirks an eyebrow. He says, “I made no such promise. Besides, I am here out of professionalism. I need to know what I have to work with.” His eyes slide back to where Stiles stretched out on his back, one knee bent. “Not as bad as I feared.”

Boyd snorts. “Right.” They both watch Stiles mutter to himself as he sits back up to roll his sleeves to his elbows. “Braeden loves his ‘energy.’ Says his animation is good for the camera.” He shrugs.

Peter eyes Stiles from their spot in the back of the studio. He hasn’t had the pleasure of talking with Stiles before today. Though if Peter had wanted to maneuver that interaction he could have. Still, Peter has heard Lydia coo over her pet assistant, how he’s the perfect mix of helpful without being too eager. Looking at the way Stiles tips his head back and slowly runs a hand down his own stomach, Peter admits he’s done himself a disservice by not introducing himself sooner.

“That’s enough, don’t you think?” He asks Boyd but doesn’t wait on an answer. Instead, he strides over to where Braeden is on her knees to get a certain angle in her shot. “I’m ready now.”

He watches with barely disguised amusement when Stiles’ eyes widen at the sight of Peter.

Braeden scoffs. “Stiles, don’t worry about him. Keep doing what you’re doing.” She swats blindly at Peter’s leg.

The lack of respect he gets around here would be much more annoying if he weren’t so fond of these assholes.

Stiles clears his throat, cheeks pinking up nicely, and resettles himself. He seems to be refusing to look directly at Peter which makes Peter extremely curious. However, he takes the opportunity to be obvious in his leering. Stiles continues to ignore him, turning so he’s facing away from Peter while giving a nice view of his ass.

Braeden sighs and stands back up. “Fine. We need to get a move on anyway.” She flicks an annoyed look at Peter. “Do not make him uncomfortable. When he’s relaxed he’s _perfect_. If I get nothing but this—” she gestures towards Stiles who has shrunk a little into himself “—the entire shoot will be useless.”

Peter drains his coffee and goes over to the trash can to toss the cup away. He wipes his hands off with a napkin and throws that at way as well. When he walks back over to Braeden, he smirks at her unimpressed expression.

“Ready?”

Stiles straightens up when Peter moves closer to him. There’s a shine of sweat on his forehead from the set lights, and Peter can smell the telltale scent of excitement rolling off him. Peter softens his smirk into a smile. Despite what Braeden seems to think, he can control himself. He wouldn’t have made it this far in life if he couldn’t.

“Hello, Stiles.” He holds his hand out politely, which garners a surprised look from the man in front of him. “I’m Peter Hale. We haven’t been formally introduced. And, since we are about to get fairly intimate with each other, I thought I should rectify the error.”

Stiles shakes his hand firmly, palm warm. The side of his mouth tips up in humor. “Hi. I appreciate it. I’m, uh, still kind of nervous about all this.” His gaze slips to Braeden, and his smile widens. “Even if Braeden has been totally chill and patient with me.”

Braeden looks up from where she’d been reviewing photos with her assistant on the laptop at the mention of her name. “I told you, you just need to relax. These are turning out great.” She beckons him over. “Look.”

Interested, Peter follows along to look at the photographs over Stiles’ shoulder. None of them have been edited yet, but the ones Braeden shows them are good. Peter likes the close up of Stiles making a dumb face. That, and the one where Stiles is looking away from the camera while he’s reclined on the chaise lounge. The tilt of his neck and the sprawl of his legs are very, very inviting.

“Mm, nice,” Peter comments. He chuckles when Stiles’ shoulders tense up as Stiles realizes how close they’re standing. “Like the lady said, sweetheart, _relax_.” Peter brings his hands up to rest on Stiles’ arms.

He can feel it when Stiles forces his muscles to untense.

Peter murmurs, “There you go.”

Braeden raises her eyebrows at Peter, but she only says, “Alright, time to get back at it, guys.”

“So what’s the plan here?” Stiles asks once he and Peter have moved into place. He gives Peter a hesitant look, then gives him a longer one.

Allison has been fitting him and picking his photoshoot wardrobe for a couple years now and knows just as well as him by now what he looks best in. She hasn't failed him today either, and Peter preens under Stiles’ attention. He’s aware of how well tailored his dark jeans are, the way his shape is accentuated by the fit of the navy blue waistcoat he's wearing over a light grey button up left undone by the collar. However, Peter is never unopposed to someone else taking pleasure in these facts.

Stiles’ wardrobe isn't very different from Peter's, what with the jeans and dress shirt. However, the age difference and the slight clothing disparity makes Peter wonder if Braeden consciously chose to give this shoot a professor/student feel. Maybe an secretive office romance meeting after hours.

He smirks.

“Well, I’m the werewolf, and you’re the human. Seems pretty self-explanatory.” He takes a step closer to Stiles. “You’re my prey.”

Stiles lets out a loud bark of laughter, momentarily throwing Peter off his game. He recovers quickly enough and has to bite back a smile at that reaction.

Face red and covering his mouth with a hand, Stiles asks, “Are you serious right now? _Prey_?”

Peter rolls his eyes even though he’s amused. “I think I’m offended.” He speaks mildly and gives Stiles an appraising look. “Am I not scary to you?”

“Impossibly hot, like everyone in your family seems to be? Yes. Scary? No.”

 _Half-truth_. Peter is intrigued by the fact that Stiles is lying. Surely, he is aware that Peter knows it.  He can smell the deception and hear the stutter in Stiles’ heart.

He nods and smiles though. “Good. Fear wouldn’t work very well for what is supposed to be a sexy photo shoot.” When Peter moves to stand behind Stiles, he lets his fingers trail over the inside of Stiles’ exposed wrist. “Would it?”

Stiles swallows before he answers. “Probably not. Good thing I’m not afraid of you.” He cranes his head to look back at Peter. The amusement seems to be melting out of him, replaced by something else.

Leaning close so he can whisper next to Stiles’ ear, he asks, “What do I inspire in you, if not fear?”

Stiles’ lust has a particularly alluring tinge to it that has Peter taking a deep breath. Instead of owning up to his arousal, Stiles shrugs. The jump of his pulse along his throat is mesmerizing.

“You get off on that, don’t you?” Stiles mutters, trying not to speak too loudly or obviously. He seems awfully intent on posing for the camera now.

Voice slightly rougher than it was a moment ago, he says, “You like making everyone fall over themselves to please you.”

Peter chuckles at Stiles’ inadvertent slip. “I don’t have to try very hard though.” He wraps his other arm around Stiles’ waist so he can take the edge of his shirt placket in hand.

Pulling the fabric back, Peter skims the back of his knuckles over Stiles’ ribcage. “I’m a model, after all. There’s a reason for that, don’t you think?”

“True. But I doubt every model enjoys unsettling the noobs as much as you seem to.” Stiles grabs Peter’s wandering hand by the wrist, keeping him from slipping his fingers down the front of Stiles’ jeans.

It seems that despite the thread of insecurity Stiles has running through him, his spine is nothing if not rigid. Peter likes the fact that Stiles isn't some wilting flower in his presence—that despite his discomfort, Stiles pushes through it. That's more appealing than the clear skin, beauty marks, and pouty mouth.

“Perhaps,” he concedes with a tilt of his head. Braeden has been taking pictures during their little exchange. When their eyes meet, she gives him a warning look.

_Fine._

Peter takes a half step back and uses his loose hold on Stiles’ wrist to beckon him towards the chaise lounge. “Why don't we get more comfortable?”

They're facing each other now. Peter is sure he must have a few more pounds of muscle on him than Stiles even though they are of a similar height.

When he moves in again, Stiles sucks in a breath.

“Do you mind if I help you with this?” Peter asks the question quietly and traces the open collar of Stiles’ shirt with a finger.

Stiles swallows audibly, Adam's apple bobbing with the motion. A second later he lifts his chin and closes the distance between them. Peter follows the journey of Stiles’ tongue when he wets his lips. He doesn't know if it was a calculated choice, but either way Peter is interested.

“Please.” Stiles holds into Peter's gaze.

The answer is more of a request, but the tone gives a challenge of the best sort—like Stiles has taken a guess and is positive he's hit the mark.

Peter wraps a hand around Stiles’ waist and drags the tip of his nose up the elegant length of Stiles’ neck slowly. When he makes it to Stiles’ ear, he whispers, “Show me how much you want it.”

Stiles tilts his face so their mouths are almost touching. He's got the beginning of a smile on those shiny lips.

“Make it worth it.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The silly faces were inspired by [this photo set](http://the-redcrate.tumblr.com/post/167181846192), specifically the third one.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Endless love to Green for looking at this and telling me it doesn't suck. <3 
> 
> Things are about to get pretty steamy here. New tags, so check em out first.

It took him a few minutes to get used to the idea of being in front of the camera. Some gentle coaxing and some reminders from Braeden— _ don’t look directly at me, Stiles _ —and he sort of got used to ignoring the fact that he’s being photographed for such a popular publication. It helps that no one seems to care if he talks. They’ll have to delete a bunch of photos because of his weird expressions, but Stiles assumes he’s not being told to shut up because he’s a replacement, and they’re in desperate need. 

If he thought having a camera trained on him was intense, it’s nothing compared to Peter Hale. Stiles isn’t scared of werewolves, and he isn’t intimidated by power.That doesn’t keep him from being affected by a strong presence. If he didn’t know for a fact that Laura is the alpha of the Hale family and pack, Stiles would have guessed Peter was it. 

He’s got that kind of presence that makes you want to listen to what he says and do what he asks of you. Stiles likes the idea of teasing Peter in a safe space, pretending he's leading Peter on. It's a nice fantasy—that Peter might want Stiles as much as the photos are supposed to suggest. 

Stiles decides to play this like he's the prize, not Peter. It gives him something to focus on rather than worry how the photos are going to look later. 

Instead of pressing his lips more firmly against Peter’s the way he wants to, Stiles puts distance between the two of them, turning around. He looks back at Peter with a raised eyebrow. 

When Peter’s eyes flash beta blue—a controversial trait that Stiles knows has to do with Peter’s notoriety—goosebumps spread over Stiles’ skin. He bites his lip to keep from grinning. He always did have a thing for danger. 

“Where are you going, sweetheart?” Peter growls the words out softly. He reaches out and trails his fingers down the back of Stiles’ neck. 

Peter closes the gap when Stiles says, “I thought you were going to help me with my shirt.” All that heat and strength at Stiles’ back, closer than necessary and so thrilling. Stiles leans back into it fractionally.

“Of course.” Peter’s voice is deep. 

“Hold him by the neck.” Braeden instructs, cutting into the tension, and reminding Stiles that this is just a photoshoot and nothing more. He’d honestly forgotten she was there for a second. 

Peter obliges her request. Stiles swallows, nervous all over again, when one of Peter’s hands glide up his chest slowly in a journey over his sternum while Peter’s other hand tugs at the side of the shirt facing the camera. Then he’s tipping his head back, and Peter’s large, warm hand is curved around his throat. 

“This sort of thing really sells,” Peter whispers in Stiles’ ear. He's smiling, Stiles is almost sure of it. 

Stiles wraps his hand around Peter’s wrist but doesn’t pull it down. “Yeah, I hear werewolves have a thing for necks.”

With a chuckle, Peter agrees. “And I see you're not opposed to that.” He nuzzles his nose behind Stiles’ ear. “Your scent is very telling.” 

Embarrassment doesn’t really register because Stiles decides being turned on during a flirty photoshoot isn’t really a negative. Stiles scoffs anyway. As long as it doesn't go too far.

That’s when Peter opens his mouth, and not with some witty come-back. Fangs press against his skin. It makes Stiles jolt in his grip and let out a dumb, squeaky sound that does nothing to dispel Peter's earlier suggestion that Stiles is his prey. The hot, damp breath brushing across Stiles’ suddenly over sensitive skin has him trying to think as many unsexy thoughts as possible.  

“Stiles, relax your shoulders. Less scared and more turned on, yeah?” Braeden suggests quietly. 

He looks at her from the corner of his eyes. “I'm not  _ scared _ .” He forces his shoulders back down, and Peter adjusts to the space afforded. He presses his tongue to the skin like he's  _ tasting _ Stiles. 

“No one is going to judge you for getting hard. Don't fight whatever physical response you have. You're gorgeous.” Braeden is busy clicking away. She stands up so the angle is different. 

Stiles closes his eyes. His cheeks must be flushed, and he feels like he's going to spontaneously combust in a combination of arousal and the embarrassment of being coached to sport the boner he was reflexively attempting to deny. At least Braeden hadn't sounded annoyed.

Peter takes mercy on him, pulling his mouth away with a solid  _ suck _ that goes straight to Stiles’ cock. “Mmm,” he hums, obviously pleased. 

“Okay, Stiles lose the shirt and unbutton your jeans. Peter, go sit down.” Braeden commands as she walks back over to the laptop. “We only have a few minute left.” 

Stiles exchanges a look with Peter when he turns back around to face the man. “Guess I don't need that help after all.” 

Peter walks backwards, keeping his gaze trained on Stiles as he slouches across the chaise lounge. “Anytime you want help getting out of your clothes, all you have to do is ask.” 

Stiles is dumbstruck when he realizes Peter is half hard in his own jeans. He ends up tripping on nothing as he shimmies out of his shirt. The smirk Peter gives him while Stiles unbuttons his own pants makes Stiles’ blood sing.  

Braeden walks over to Stiles so they can talk. “I want you to make your way up his legs, crawling, before you sit on his lap.” She looks at him closely and speaks more softly, “Are you okay with him touching you under the clothes?” 

Stiles appreciates the tact, even if they both know Peter can hear their whispering as well as he could if they were shouting. He can't help but let his gaze slide from Braeden to Peter behind her. 

Peter's eyes are hooded, and he has one arm propped up on the back of the chair. He looks like a spoiled prince waiting on his next gift. Stiles imagines sitting on those thighs and having those hands sliding over very intimate places. He's  _ so _ into that.

“It's cool.” He manages to pretend his chill. 

Braeden gives him a look, and silence stretches between them for a moment before she nods her head and smiles. “Great! Because I think it's gonna look really hot.”

Stiles laughs a little hysterically. “That's the point, right?” 

“Yup!” Braeden answers brightly. She seems happier now that Stiles has expressed to her his full consent to what she has in mind. 

Peter raises an eyebrow when Stiles crouches down at the foot of the chaise. He doesn't really know how to do this is and make it look sexy, but he'll try his best. 

“Well, isn't this nice.” Peter slouches a little further and crosses his ankles in front of Stiles’ face. “Come up here.”

Stiles groans internally, before he starts crawling with Peter's legs between his hands and knees. He pauses and asks Braeden, “Do you want me to keep my head down or…” 

“Lower your front but keep your chin up, supplicating,” she answers. 

When Stiles nearly falls off the lounge, Peter says, “ _ so enticing _ .” He snorts before leaning forward so he can cup Stiles’ chin in hand. “Get up here. I want you now.” 

Stiles scrambles and it isn't sexy, he's sure of it, but he doesn't care. He already abandoned his plan at pretending to seduce Peter. Clearly,Peter is the professional and Stiles is just along for the ride. 

When he gets seated, his legs are spread across the width of Peter's thighs. Even though he still has his jeans on, he feels exposed. He looks down at his lap and notices the way his junk is pushed up and highlighted by the open V of his fly. He's fully hard now, cock straining in the confines of the underwear Allison had him wear. 

His head snaps back up. He wants to grind forward against Peter's well toned stomach and push down against Peter's own hard cock. 

“So what now?” Stiles asks. He doesn't know who he's asking, Braeden or Peter, but he'd like a little direction. Because if he was able to make the decision, this would be a lot less softcore than it should be. 

Peter's hands land on his hips. He looks genuinely pleased, and Stiles notes the way Peter's pupils eat up almost all of the blue of his eyes. It's gratifying. 

“Can I touch you in your bathing suit area?” Peter teases a little at Braeden’s expense. It makes Stiles relax though. 

He pretends to debate the question even though he knows Peter must have noticed the growing damp spot in his underwear. “Yeah. I guess that's okay.” 

Leaning forward, Peter kisses the underside of Stiles’ neck as his fingers inch down. “Good.” 

He'd been expecting Peter to start with just below the denim. What he gets is Peter slowly easing his fingers below the elastic of his underwear. He slides his hands down until he's holding Stiles’ ass in both hands. 

“Oh,” Stiles breathes as he bucks forward at the touch. His brain might be shorting out. 

Peter squeezes his hands carefully so that Stiles can think of nothing but the millimeters between Peter's fingers and his entrance. Stiles has to remind himself that Peter would be able to tell just how serious Stiles is if he started “pretending” to beg. He'd like to walk away from this with a little bit of dignity still in tact. 

He closes his eyes and tips his head back again, sucking down oxygen. He tries to come up with something witty to say, something that will break the tension again. Even listening to Braeden's camera isn't helping. 

All he can think about is that at least he'll have the photos to jerk off to later. 

Peter licks up the length of Stiles’ neck and kisses the skin just below his ear. 

Then he starts talking. 

“You've got such a tight little ass.” Peter murmurs quietly to him. He squeezes his hands again before he pulls Stiles closer with the grip he has. “I wonder how good it would feel split on my cock.” 

Stiles’ mouth is dry, and he shudders. Being yanked forward like that brought his cock in badly needed contact with Peter. He hitches his hips forward without meaning to. 

“You'd let me, wouldn't you?” Peter presses his lips to Stiles’ ear as he slips his fingers a little farther down. The tip of one just barely brushes against Stiles’ entrance. “I bet you'd take it so good. Ride me until we both came.” 

His finger pushes in just a little, not quite breaching but guiding Stiles’ forward anyway. 

Stiles has been clutching Peter's shoulders this whole time, but when Peter does that, he bows his head and threads his fingers through Peter's ridiculously silky hair, holding on for dear life. The worst thing is, he knows Peter is just saying this to get a rise out of Stiles, to make the photos seem that much more electric with real emotion. 

Stiles rolls his hips and ruts against Peter anyway. It's as close to perfect as he can get right now. Peter's finger tip keeps circling and rubbing, never quite going in. It's maddening. 

“Please.” Stiles sobs out quietly. He can feel his orgasm building. He spreads his knees so his weight sits more fully against Peter's erection while he grinds against him. At least he isn't the only one being affected here. 

Peter growls and pulls his other hand out of Stiles’ underwear before shoving it right back in to curl around Stiles’ cock. “Come for me.”

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Greenie, I love you!

Stiles’ body goes rigid while his cock jerks in Peter's hand. The smell of his release hits Peter, a million times stronger than the scent of his precome. It's heady, coupled with the way Stiles’ arousal smells. But that's nothing compared to the soft cry he lets out as he follows Peter's demand.

“Good boy,” Peter murmurs against Stiles’ temple, hidden from the camera. Things progressed much more quickly than he had intended.

Stiles had reacted so beautifully for him though. It makes Peter want to lay him out and put him under for real. He doesn't even know if Stiles would be up for something like that, but wouldn't it be fun if he was?

Peter keeps still when Stiles slumps fully against him, shaking just a bit when Peter swipes his thumb, almost longingly, over the head of Stiles’ spent cock. The mess in his hand is rapidly cooling, and he's so tempted to lick his hand clean or feed it right back to Stiles. Now isn't the time for that though. Braeden doesn't need to photograph everything.

“I think we're done.” Peter moves so he's looking at Braeden. She's already over at her laptop though, sans assistant. Peter notices Boyd is the only one left in the studio.  
He'd been so focused on Stiles, he hadn't noticed Boyd kicking people out.

Braeden has a knowing smirk on her lips, but she keeps her eyes trained on the screen of her laptop. “I'd say he definitely finished.”

Stiles groans in response, apparently surfacing from his come-drunk state. After squeezing Stiles’ ass one more time, Peter pulls both hands from his jeans. He does his best to minimize smearing the come over their clothes.

“I'm dead. This is some kind of fucked up fantasy nightmare where I'm gonna wake up with sticky sheets and no photographic evidence that I just came during a magazine shoot for my place of work.” Stiles mumbles the words, a surprisingly rambling plea to the universe.

Peter’s hard-on is going down some, but when Stiles shifts in his lap he hisses at the delicious pressure. “Nope, you're awake.” He uses his clean hand to help ease Stiles back and stand up.

Stiles turns away from Braeden to shimmy all the way back into his jeans, grimacing. “I don't think Allison is getting these underwear back.” He snags his shirt from the puddle it had been left in on the floor and shrugs it back on.

“I think the budget can handle that.” Peter stands. He wants to go over and help Stiles button up his shirt for him, but he can smell the low level consternation rolling off him.

He grabs some tissues off a table and cleans his hand off instead. The scent will linger long enough to aid Peter in getting off later.

Braeden whistles at Stiles to get his attention. “Wanna check it out?” She nods to her computer. “I think these are going to work just fine.”

Stiles hesitates, clearly torn between curiosity and the need to get out of here. Peter goes over to him and places a hand low on Stiles’ back, guiding him forward. He asks quietly, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Stiles’s cheeks are flushed.

“I had enough before things got really hot and heavy.” Braeden clicks and a grid of photos pops up. She looks up at Stiles. “Nothing to be embarrassed about. Someone should have warned you these things can get intense.” He gaze slides to Peter. “Especially when it's with Peter. He's a bit of a tease.”

Stiles scoffs and crosses his arms. He ignores her words. “Do I get a free copy of these? For posterity's sake. I don't think modeling is really in my calling, but it'd be cool to have proof that it actually happened.” He leans closer to get a better view of the photos.

Peter can’t help but trail his gaze over the long line of Stiles’ spine.

Braeden taps a stack of sticky notes. “Gimme your email and I can send them to you overnight. I think you get a free copy of the magazine though.”

Peter looks at the screen, enamored by one of the photos of Stiles on his lap. His head is tilted back,that beautiful neck exposed for Peter. It looks like Stiles is blissed out by what Peter is whispering to him.

He wants more of that and for real. Those things he told Stiles and the other things he's been imagining, Peter wants it all with Stiles.

“So I'm done now?” Stiles asks after jotting down his email for Braeden. He still hasn't looked at Peter.

Boyd saunters over with two bottles of water. “I checked with Lydia, and she's cool with you heading out for the day.”

“Thanks.” Stiles chugs his water and wipes off his mouth with the back of his hand.

Peter takes the empty bottle from Stiles, catching the other man's eye. “You did a good job.”

Stiles blushes and looks away from Peter. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.” Scrubbing a hand through his hair and making a mess of it, Stiles says, “I think I'm going to head out now.”

“We're headed the same way.” Peter tosses their bottles in the recycling bin and walks with Stiles out of the studio. He doesn't miss the arched brow and knowing look Braeden gives him.

“Oh god. Why are you extending my humiliation?” Stiles grumbles at Peter.

Peter stops him once they're in the hallway leading to the costuming room. “That's not my intention, Stiles.” He hooks a finger under Stiles’ chin to gently lift his head up so they are looking at each other. “I really did enjoy myself. And I swear no one is going to make fun of you for coming. You're hardly the first.”

Stiles scoffs, pulling his chin away as he says, “I’ll bet.”

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you, sweetheart.” Peter presses his palms to the wall either side Stiles’ shoulders, caging him in. “I really did enjoy myself in there.” He inhales deeply and catches a hint of interest from Stiles. He smirks. “I’d like to do it again sometime. Soon.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “I think we already established modeling isn’t in my cards.”

“I meant in a less public setting.” Peter looks Stiles up and down, sight catching on Stiles’ parted lips. “Not that I’m opposed to a little exhibitionism.”

Stiles’ eyebrows are raised when Peter looks back up. “Are you serious?”

Peter leans in and speaks against Stiles’ ear. “ _Very_.”

The hand cupping the front of his jeans is a surprise. Peter pushes into it though, leaning his whole body closer until their chests brush.

“You sure this isn’t clouding your judgement?” Stiles squeezes his hand around Peter’s cock. He swallows nervously, but still says, “If I got you off, don’t you think your fascination would be satisfied?” His voice is a little huskier by the end.

They’re standing in the hallway and any one of the people in the building could come by and see Stiles with his hand in a very compromising position. Stiles is staring at Peter with a challenge in his eye that makes Peter’s cock harden all the way.

“We could test your theory.” Peter can’t help but cup Stiles’ jaw. “If you wanted.”

Stiles drops his hand and sucks in a breath as if shocked by the suggestion. It’s cute. The slight expansion of Stiles’ pupils is promising.

Peter pushes off the wall and takes Stiles by the hand. “My office?” He issues a challenge of his own.

“Uh…” Stiles doesn’t move and his arm is slack in Peter’s grip for a moment, before he takes a half step closer. His eyes dart around them before he clears his throat. “Fine.”

The way Stiles squares his shoulders brings a smile to Peter’s lips. He tugs the younger man along until they come to Peter’s office door.

“After you.” He twists the handle and pushes the door open.

Stiles pulls him in with him instead and pushes Peter against the door until it slams shut. His hands land on Peter’s chest, breathing quick.

“Now what?” Peter asks mildly.

“I kiss you. Because we haven’t even kissed for real yet.” Stiles says harshly, like he’s willing it so.

“Sounds like a good place to start.” Peter chuckles.

When their lips meet, it isn’t hesitant like Peter assumed it would be. Stiles knows what he’s doing, tracing the tip of his tongue along the seam of Peter’s lips as he seeks entry.

Heat coils in Peter’s stomach as he matches Stiles’ enthusiasm with his own. He brings his hands up to frame Stiles’ face between his palms and hold him close. Feeling the way

Stiles’ jaw works while they kiss gives Peter all kinds of dirty thoughts, and his cock twitches in his jeans.

Peter bites gently at Stiles’ bottom lip before licking over the sting. When Stiles groans into his mouth, he kisses over Stiles’ cheek to his ear to lick along the delicately folded cartilage.

“Ohh...kay.” Stiles pats at Peter’s chest, shivering against him just a bit. Peter flicks his tongue against what is definitely one of Stiles’ sweet spots, head angled to give Peter more room to work. His eyes flutter. “I thought we had a plan here?”

Peter pulls back with what he knows is a shit-eating grin on his face. “Detours are nice, but please, continue.” He drops his hands to the top of his jeans.

Stiles goes straight to his knees, no reply but holding Peter’s gaze with his own heated one. He pushes Peter’s fingers out of the way and deftly pops the button and unzips the fly. Peter is still wearing the vest and dress shirt Allison gave him earlier, and Stiles pulls the shirttail out of the way and stuffs it up under the vest. Then he bows his head like he used up all his bravado.

Peter lets out a quiet groan, loving the sight of Stiles in such a supplicating pose. He threads his fingers through Stiles’ hair before giving an experimental tug. “You’re so goddamn beautiful.”

Stiles’ scent goes sharp at the praise, and he glances up at Peter from under his lashes. “You probably say that to all the boys.” He doesn’t give Peter a chance to respond before he’s dragging his tongue over the fabric stretched across Peter’s cock as he pulls his jeans down his thighs.

He gets the underwear down next, just far enough that Peter’s cock springs free and bumps across Stiles’ cheek. A wet trail of precome smears over his skin. Stiles takes him by the base and turns his head to mouth at the head slowly. It makes Peter’s knees a little weak to watch. Pink tongue teasing along the underside of his head and lapping at the slit like Stiles is chasing the flavor.

“Open up, baby.” Peter growls quietly. The last of his patience has been used up by the focused expression on Stiles’ face.

Stiles complies instantly, taking Peter in halfway and getting him good and wet before sucking with enough pressure that Peter’s toes curl in his shoes. He makes this low noise that reverberates along Peter’s shaft as Stiles pulls him in deeper. The younger man’s eyes flick up to meet Peter’s.

Twisting his fingers in Stiles’ hair just a bit, Peter keeps from pushing him down all the way. Instead, he says, “So good. You know what you’re doing, don’t you, baby? Why don’t you show me just how talented that pretty mouth of yours is?”

Stiles’ eyelids drop and his fingers squeeze around Peter’s hips after letting go of the base of his cock. He opens up until the head of Peter’s cock presses into his throat. The tight, wet, hot pressure is perfect, and Peter holds Stiles’ head close for just a moment so he can relish it. When he eases off, Stiles’ eyelashes are damp and he has to pull off to breathe.

“I don’t care if you want to fuck my throat, but a little warning would be nice,” Stiles grouses. He takes Peter back in his mouth though, sucking him all the way back down and bobbing in a teasing rhythm.

“Noted,” Peter pants, fingers working against Stiles’ scalp but not too insistent.

Stiles presses his nose against Peter’s pelvis and stays there as if Peter was holding him down again. Peter wonders if Stiles would let him fuck him like that for real, keep Stiles still while he pushed down Stiles’ throat over and over.

He can’t stop picturing all the things he’d like to do with Stiles, for Stiles. He slams his eyes shut and tells himself to stop letting his imagination run wild. He’s going to enjoy this and hope Stiles gives him a chance to see just where this magnetism could go. One thing at a time.

Stiles sets up a quick rhythm, up and down and stroking at Peter’s cock when he doesn’t have the whole thing in his mouth. It isn’t going to take long now. He can feel his orgasm building up. He cups Stiles’ head with both hands and doesn’t push Stiles to go faster or deeper than he wants.

Almost growling, Peter warns, “I’m going to come.”

Sitting up more on his knees, Stiles seems to redouble his efforts.

Peter gets an idea and lets go of Stiles’ head, taking the younger man’s hands until he can hold both wrists in one hand. Stiles doesn’t fight him on it, groaning instead.

“Finish me off, sweetheart. Show me how much you want it.” Peter smooths Stiles’ sweaty hair away from his forehead.

Stiles is looking up at him when he takes him deep and holds him there, swallowing around him over and over again. It’s too much, it’s perfect. Peter spills down his throat in hot pulses that choke Stiles.

When he pulls back, Stiles has tears tracking down his cheeks and his lips are ruby red. Peter slides down the wall, using his hold on Stiles’ wrist to pull him back into his lap.

He kisses Stiles and chases the taste of his own come for a long minute.

“So? Satisfied?” Stiles asks with a torn voice that gives away exactly what he’s been doing.

Peter wipes his fingers over the wetness on Stiles’ cheeks and says, “Not even a little.” He smirks when Stiles’ eyes go wide like he’s on the verge of being offended. “Let me take you out to dinner. I want to get to know you.”

Peter adds, “I’d like to take you as far as you’d let me.” Peter swipes his thumbs over Stiles’ cheekbones softly.

Stiles looks away, laughing a little hysterically. “This is a bad idea.” When he looks back at Peter, he bites his bottom lip, then says, “But okay.”

Peter kisses him again, hard. “Good.”

**Author's Note:**

> I will probably revisit this universe, but I can't make any promises or give you an idea of _when_ that might be. For now, this is it. If you enjoyed this, please let me know!
> 
> If you wanna come hang out with me on Tumblr, I'm [here](http://the-redcrate.tumblr.com).


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